Of Dry Hallucinations

I open my eyes. My head is throbbing, but they’re not talking yet. I'm on my kitchen floor, it’s cold. The blinds in the window are open enough that sunlight stretches out on the floor with me. There's broken glass scattered on the old, stained tiles making little rainbows around the room. Tiny shards are burning into my skin. I shift around, the floor is slippery. It smells foul, like acid and vodka. The more I move the more my skin prickles with discomfort.
As I sit up the room starts spinning and the voices begin to whisper in the back of my head. I can hear knocking, it’s a sharp, fast sound. Like a woodpecker looking for it’s food in a tree. It makes my head hurt more and I try to ignore it because it’s never who I want it to be. I look down at my arms, they're speckled with dark dots and dripping liquor. If I look closely it’s like the skin is growing crystals with shadows made of colour.
My leg are wobbly as I stand and the room hasn’t stopped spinning. I can still hear the knocking, it’s louder now and accompanied by screams and loud bangs like someone’s trying to break the door down. It’s not real. I know it’s not real. I know and yet I feel a black hole swirling in my chest, I can feel the ocean filling up my lungs. My legs carry me as quickly as they can to the nearest room where I lock myself in. The knocking only gets louder. My head’s running and running but it’s not going anywhere. My bruised hands reach up to my neck to grip the golden chain and ring that I carry for her and now I’m submerged.
She used to help me when this would happen. She was the only one that could carry me out of the abyss. I had her and she had no one because it was just the two of us. Hers was the one real voice that I could hear. It was made of honey and the summer breeze and gleaming days in quiet meadows. Nothing like the desperate, glass-shattering ones that plague me. I can see her warm eyes, her flowing hair and rosy cheeks, she’s smiling. The knocking fades, screams turn into soft whispers and the water subsides. I can breathe again.
I turn to look at her, but she's gone. She’s gone again but she was never back, and she’s not coming back, not really. She disappeared. I killed her. I couldn’t be there with her I kept slipping down, down into the dark and she couldn't hold us both but she wouldn't let go and it killed her, turned her into a whispers that hides in the dark corners of my room waiting to cut my thread.